


Black Lion Brews

by MapleMooseMuffin



Series: Sheith Month 2018 [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Day 3 - Sandwiches/Drinking, Fluff, In which Lance tries desperately to get Shiro and Keith to flirt, Lance's POV, M/M, Sheith Month, Sheith Month 2018, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 02:28:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15184754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapleMooseMuffin/pseuds/MapleMooseMuffin
Summary: Lance regrets ever being friends with Keith when he tries his hardest to wingman for the poor kid. Keith, it turns out, is an absolute disaster when it comes to flirting. Lucky for him, the newest barista at Black Lion Brews doesn’t seem to care.





	Black Lion Brews

**Author's Note:**

> I'm late, but here's my piece for Day 3 of Sheith Month. I chose Drinking and went for a nice coffee shop au.  
> This one is from Lance's POV because I wanted to play around and have something more light-hearted, and also because when you're almost exclusively a Sheith writer, you get tired of Shiro and Keith's POVs after a while, haha. 
> 
> Unbeta'd -- I've already asked my betas to look over a chapter fic going up tomorrow so I'm not going to burden them with this silly thing too. The title may change, but I couldn't think of anything better at the moment. 
> 
> Enjoy~

            Black Lion Brews isn’t usually all that crowded of a coffee shop, as it sits a few miles from the main street, nestled by a florist and a secondhand clothing store in the less expensive strip of the business district. Lance found it when he picked up a part-time job there three years ago, and though he’s moved on to his post-graduation Real Adult Job (™), he still likes to stop by and see how the place is doing. Besides, the shop has the best blueberry scones in town, and he recommends them to all of his friends.

            His constant praise of the shop even got Keith to check it out, which is how Lance finds himself watching the Saturday Morning Oblivious Pining Show starring Edgy Boy Wonder an hour before the two of them are supposed to hit the gym. It’s really a travesty, the way Keith keeps looking up from his sketchpad every few seconds to ogle the back of the morning shift barista’s head as he goes about his business making orders. Lance has to peek at Keith’s sketchbook just to make sure Keith isn’t doing something unforgivable like drawing the guy’s undercut in heart frames or something. He isn’t, thank God, but with the way he keeps looking up, Lance doesn’t trust him to keep it that way for long.

            It’s hard to decide if it’s hilarious or just painful. Keith isn’t very talkative before his morning coffee – or ever, honestly – but Lance can still tell that the encounter with the hot barista has left him speechless. He kind of gets why; the dude behind the counter is like 6’2 and absolutely shredded, a real Captain America Dorito, and has a customer service persona that screams homegrown quarterback, model citizen. Lance’s bi ass sure as hell would tap that in an instant if he could. But the way Keith keeps looking up every time the guy calls out a customer’s name isn’t just the usual ‘man, I’d kill to see you naked’ kind of longing. No, Keith looks like he thinks he’s in some Victorian novel or something, and the barista is the mysteriously eligible and very affluent bachelor who’s become talk of the town for hosting weekly balls. (And yeah, okay, maybe that Romantic Lit class Lance took four years ago stuck a lot more than it should have.) But the _point_ is that Keith looks downright pathetic, and if he starts sighing like a forlorn heroine wondering when her lover returns from war, Lance is going to have to disown him.

            The barista looks their way right when Keith looks up for the nth time, and Lance is surprised at how fast Keith’s face goes from porcelain to blending in with his stupid crop-top jacket. (Where the hell he even found that fashion disaster, Lance will never know. Sometimes he swears he has nightmares that Keith did it himself). Keith flinches back like it’s a _bad_ thing to catch his apparent crush’s attention, eyes snapping down onto his drawing. He frowns, furrowing his brow, and flips his pencil to drag his eraser over the thick line he accidentally made when he jerked his hand.

            For Lance’s own sanity, he has to do something.

            “You could ask his name,” he says, leaning forward with his arms on the table so he can give Keith a look so meaningful that even his oblivious mind should catch the hint. The little bit of paleness Keith’s face had regained is gone again under his blush and he leans closer to his drawing, erasing with more force.

            “Who’s name?” he asks, like he doesn’t fucking know. Like he doesn’t know Lance _knows_ he knows. Lance gives him a Look, which goes to waste because Keith keeps his eyes glued to his art.

            “The barista,” Lance says, drawing it out and putting emphasis on the end to try and give Keith an idea of the expression he’s making, since he refuses to look up.

            Said barista sets a cup on the pick up counter and calls out “Vanilla Americano for Lance!” Lance gives Keith his best This Isn’t Over look even though he knows Keith won’t see it, because sometimes it’s just the principle of these things, and stands up to fetch his coffee. The barista smiles at him as he comes over. Lance decides to take matters into his own hands.

            Keith better know how lucky he is, to have a friend/wingman like Lance.

            “Hey,” Lance says, leaning up against the counter all casual like as he takes his coffee and fishes one of those cardboard sleeves out of the dispenser. “Does Allura still run things around here?” She does; he saw her last week. But Hot Barista doesn’t know that, and it’s an easy way to open conversation without making it seem like he’s flirting.

            “Yeah, she’s my manager,” Hot Barista says, quirking a brow. And damn, maybe Lance should let Keith draw him after all, because it’s almost unreal how nice that arc looks with the other angles of his face. “I take it you know her?”

            Lance nods and slides the sleeve around his cup. It is actually hot enough to need it – Barista Guy knows what he’s doing. “I used to work here,” he says, and the barista nods like that answered some question he had. “I’m Lance, by the way.”

            “Yeah, I figured. Nice to meet you, Lance.”

            Lance almost frowns. The guy was supposed to introduce himself back, and then Lance would say ‘well I’ll see you around’ or something and wave as he walked back to the table and told Keith ‘see, just like that’. But instead he just smiles and then moves back to the machines to make whatever monstrosity Keith ordered. Talk about _rude_. How’s a guy supposed to help his buddy flirt around here?

            The espresso machine is as obnoxiously loud as ever, so Lance can’t really continue the conversation in any natural way, and pushing it anyway would make it look like _he’s_ hitting on the guy, which really ruins the whole wingman thing. So Lance goes over to the little bar of sugar and cream and pretends to add his own personal touch to his drink, biding his time until the guy finishes up Keith’s order and gets back to the pick up counter. The great thing about Black Lion Brews being lesser known is that the there isn’t that much of a rush this time of day, and Dorito Barista doesn’t have any other orders to fill after Keith’s. He’ll be stuck standing around drumming his fingers on the counter and counting down the minutes until his shift ends. Prime chatting opportunity.

            Hot Barista calls out Keith’s name, and Lance can see Keith jump in his seat from here. He probably scratched another big line across his drawing. Lance shakes his head and goes to the counter before Keith can get there.

            “I thought you said you were Lance,” the barista says. He’s quirking that brow again, and damn if it isn’t a great look. Lance nods and smiles, angling his body so he can tilt his head towards his disaster gay of a friend, who’s fumbling with the pencil he apparently dropped on the floor when he stood up too fast.

            “I am, but Keith’s my buddy,” he says. He tries to pretend that Keith doesn’t look like an absolute mess right now, but the boy doesn’t do himself any favors.

            Hot Barista looks past him to watch Keith slam his freshly caught pencil down on the table and straighten up like none of the past thirty seconds happened. If Lance didn’t know any better he’d think that the barista actually missed the whole fiasco, because he isn’t smirking or laughing or giving Lance an ‘uh, is that guy okay?’ face. Actually, his eyes kind of soften and he just smiles, real gentle, and oh. _Oh_.

            Lance takes back anything he thought about this dude being a hot stud, because clearly he and Keith are freaking soulmates. Lance has to take a few steps back and just watch as Keith starts walking over to the counter. The whole thing slows down before his eyes, like one of those painful romcom scenes where the lovers meet eyes and do that slowmo running hug thing. Seriously, Lance thinks he can hear cheesy soulful music playing. Keith and the barista’s eyes are glued to each other, tunnel vision at its finest, while Keith crosses the ten feet between them like it’s a red carpet or something.

            When Keith reaches the counter, Lance suddenly has the horrific psychic realization that his friend is going to say something awful.

            “Thanks,” Keith says.

            “Yeah,” Dorito says.

            That’s it. There’s no hint of a flirt. No ‘how are you’ or ‘are you new around here?’ or accidental-on-purpose hand brush when he takes the cup. Hell, if Keith wasn’t staring into the dude’s eyes like the barista was medusa and Keith had turned to fucking stone, Lance is 99.9% sure the doofus would have turned and just gone back to their table and his sketching. God damn. Lance wondered over the course of their friendship how someone as pretty as Keith was always single, but here the answer is, right in front of his face.

            If there was a subtle way to kick Keith in the shins in the middle of the coffee shop, Lance would do it in a heartbeat. Since that’s not an option, he does the second best thing and swoops in to save Keith’s ass.

            “I was just telling my buddy Keith here that he needs to get a haircut,” he says, because he doesn’t give himself enough time to actually think of anything good. He’s used to that, though, his mouth running faster than his brain, and damage control is second nature.

            But Keith is scowling at him, all ‘don’t make fun of my stupid hair in front of my literal soulmate’ – and okay, he wouldn’t use those words, but he doesn’t actually _say_ anything, so Lance gets full liberty to interpret that face however he wants. He lifts an arm to rest it on Keith’s shoulder, and Keith jerks away immediately.

            “What do you think?” Lance asks the barista. The point here is to get him to look at Keith’s hair, and by consequence, Keith’s much less tragic face, and say something nice. Get the ball rolling.

            “I think it’s fine,” Barista says. His eyes say he’s been living under a rock and has no idea how blatantly unfashionable Keith’s hair is, because he’s making this soft enraptured face that Lance has only seen one other person make: his mother, when talking about his father and their high school dates. But apparently ‘fine’ is the only word this guy can think of to express that kind of emotion. He smiles at Keith, and Keith gives him this shy twitch of the lips like a kid being told by a stranger that they look all grown up.

            They’re both hopeless.

            Alright, Lance can work with this. He just needs to readjust, take a different approach.

            “I like yours,” Keith says quietly. Lance blinks and looks between Keith and the barista, who runs a hand through the white streak of bangs in the middle of his forehead and laughs, some kind of breathy chuckle that’s both adorable and embarrassed. _There we go_ , Lance thinks. Allows himself to get excited, because _yes, finally._

            “Thanks,” the guy says.

            “Yeah,” Keith says. And that’s it.

            Back to square fucking one.

            After another million years of awkward endless staring, Keith must finally burn his hand, because he sets his coffee back down on the counter and turns to fish a sleeve out of the dispenser. Except, Lance has the last one in his hand right now, wrapped around his own cup. Mr. Barista starts out of whatever weird soulmate trance he was in and rushes behind the counter to the cabinet Lance knows they store supplies in.

            “One sec, I’ll get you one,” he says over his shoulder.

            Keith nods and drums his fingers on the counter. He glances at Lance with an anxious face, looking like he was just told he’s going to give a presentation to the whole shop in five minutes on some topic he’s never heard of. Seriously, Lance has seen Hunk look less nervous. He shakes his head and moves to pat Keith on the shoulder.

            “He likes you. Chill out.”

            Keith’s eyes widen with genuine fear and he starts to pull back. Lance tightens his grip.

            “You’re _fine_ , dude. Just take a deep breath. Ask the guy his name.”

            “It’s Shiro,” the barista says. Lance jumps. Keith looks mortified. But Shiro is smiling sheepishly as he holds out the sleeve he got for Keith. “Sorry about that, the pin on my name tag is broken, so I can’t wear it.”

            “That’sokay,” Keith slurs, moving so fast to speak that he trips over his words and spills them all at once. Lance winces internally. If it were anyone but Shiro, who is apparently smitten beyond help, Keith would be making the biggest fool of himself. Lance pulls out his phone to check the time and give himself a break from watching this mess while Keith fumbles with the cardboard sleeve. Shiro actually helps him, picking up Keith’s cup like it’s perfectly normal to struggle with putting one circle inside of another slightly larger circle.

            Lance suddenly imagines what it’ll be like to be a third wheel when these two get together and shudders. Rover better move over because Lance is going to need a new Saturday morning companion, and Pidge is the only one left thanks to Hunk’s new girlfriend.

            “Thanks,” Keith says.

            “Yeah,” Shiro says.

            Lance wants to scream.

            “We should get going,” he says before this can get any worse. Keith nods but keeps staring at Shiro like he put the stars in the sky. Lance suppresses a groan, because he’s never seen Keith this invested in someone and he’s not an _ass_ , he’s not going to ruin the mood just because those two are the worst flirters in existence. Instead, he turns and heads to their table to gather up his gym bag and get Keith’s art stuff together for him.

            Five minutes later he’s practically guiding Keith by the elbow out of the shop, while Keith gives Shiro a tiny wave and walks sideways so he can keep staring at him as they go.

            The cool morning air feels good on his face. It feels like resetting, and the stress from having to watch Keith and Shiro struggle to put more than two words together eases away.

            “Wow,” Keith mumbles. Lance snorts and looks at him, squinting against the sun shining right behind Keith’s head.

            “You should probably drink that,” Lance says. Keith looks up from where he was staring at his cup and raises an eyebrow. Lance smirks. “You seem pretty thirsty to me.”

            Keith blushes and rolls his eyes, making that rough, huffy sound in his throat that he does when Lance’s ribbing is particularly successful. He shifts his cup from one hand to the other, and that’s when Lance sees it. Seven little digits scrawled in black across the brown cardboard of the sleeve, and a little signature underneath.

            “Are you kidding me?” Lance barks, because seriously, _seriously_ , how the hell was the trio of ‘thanks, yeah’ worth an incredibly hot guy’s number?

            Keith frowns at him, looking concerned. “What, what’s the matter?”

            Lance shakes his head. He’s going to wait and see if Keith even spots Shiro’s number before he finishes his drink. Five bucks says he won’t.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr](http://maple-moose-muffin.tumblr.com/) and welcome new friends to come yell at me about my hopeless sons~.
> 
> You can reblog this fic [here](http://maple-moose-muffin.tumblr.com/post/175596672300/black-lion-brews).


End file.
